


Angel   with a Shotgun

by Pandagirl



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Alternate Universe - Western, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 11:59:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15242916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandagirl/pseuds/Pandagirl





	Angel   with a Shotgun

Early in the day the sun already beat down on the farm, as it always did without mercy. Today there were visitors even more unwelcome than the sun. Rey was walking back to the cabin, hauling water for the few cows that still lived. Seeing the all too familiar shine of Hux’s red hair Rey sits down on the stoop occupying the entrance. 

“Good morning, Rey. Do you have our money?” Hux asked, looking down on her. 

“I will,” she answers, challenging him with a tilt of her head. 

“You only have till the end of the month,” the loud redheaded man informed her from his horse, as if she didn't know.

“You’ll get it and I'll keep my family’s land” Rey responds. 

“Of course,” he says with a raised eyebrow, as a representative of the First Bank he knows her odds. “Good day, Rey.” He clicks and leads his horse back down the way. She stands up fighting the urge to flip the water buckets just filled. 

Instead with a deep breath she lifts the buckets and carries them the rest of the way to the trough as she has every morning. 

“It’ll be okay,” she reassures the nearest cow, patting it on its head.

Quickly she finishes the rest of her chores and heads back to the cabin. It's seen better days and is in desperate need of repairs. The walls are bare, stripped of anything of value, and etched in the wood is tally marks. One for every day she's been alone. 

“There has to be something,” she mutters to herself as she scavenges through her few belongings. There, a few remaining tool, small woodworking ones. Rey throws them the bag hanging across her shoulders. She takes a moment to carve another notch into the wall before she heads to Niima, locking her door behind her. 

The town of Niima is barely in better shape than her farm. The only new building is that damn bank. Everything else is old and worn down by the desert including Plutt’s trading, Rey’s destination. 

Mr. Plutt is a grotesque mountain of man, slimy and mean. And also the only trader in town. 

“What do you have for me today?” he asks, leering at her from behind his cluttered counter. Rey deposits the tools there, adding to the mess. Plutt runs his hands over and through the small pile. 

“I can give you nothing, I have these type of tools already,” he answers shrugging carelessly sliding her findings back to her. 

“I need something,” Rey protests, trying to shove her things back. Plutt puts his hands over hers. 

“The First Bank is coming for you aren't they? Maybe we can work something out,” he offers.  
She pulls her hands back, away from him shaking her head no. 

“I'll figure something out. Thanks though,” she says coldly. She takes her tools back from the counter and storms out. 

“Damn it,” she curses to herself. She heads left, further into town. In the center of town is Maz’s, the town bar. Like much in Niima it's a one of a kind, even though it's owner Maz would be a one of a kind no matter where you went. And Rey needs that drink. 

Something catches her eye on her way up to the porch of Maz’s. A bounty, wanted alive. That's more than enough to keep her land she realizes. Tearing the paper off its nail, she reads over it as she heads in for that drink. 

Wanted: Luke Skywalker, alive for questioning.


End file.
